I was baptised on the 12th November 1916. The vicar at that time was the Reverend L.A. Bellhouse (Lawrence Arthur). My godparents, mother and father, and a Mr. Chambers, who I never knew but presumably worked at Crooke Hall with Dad. Dad must have been on short leave.
During October 1917 my mother moved to Crooke Hall Cottages along with Fred, my elder brother, who was born in a district of Grantham (I think Little Gonerby) on 28th February 1903 and died on 10th April 1986, aged 83, and Mary Elizabeth, who was born on 5th February 1910 and died on 21st July 1985 (sudden death), aged 75, the time being around 1pm Sunday. Mary, my sister, was married to John (Jack) Weaver on 26th April 1943. They had one daughter Ruth, who died through childbirth aged 25 years, leaving the baby, also called Ruth. Ruth’s husband was David Orford who later remarried and had one child by his second wife, whose name is Christine, who had previously been married but divorced.
When I was a very small boy, dad used to sometimes take me up to Crooke Hall on a Sunday afternoon, as he had to feed the horses (two). As a treat, he would sit me on one of the horses’ back for a little while. It was the quieter of the two horses and was named Jill.
As I grew up I started school (St. John’s C of E) Whittle-le-Woods at the age of 4 years, my life being uneventful at an early age. When I was just short of nine years old I joined the St. John’s Church choir on 6th September 1925 and was a member till 1932. It was rather scary going home on my own after practice on Wednesday evenings from 7.30pm to 9pm as I had to go down what is now signposted as Chapel Lane. In the early days there were large trees on one side and the graveyard on the other. The trees were later felled to make room for Mr. Tom Bates’ drive down to his workshop and garage. (I took a lot of the roots home for our kitchen fire.) Then I had to make my way through what was then the farmyard, with large farm carts stacked up on either side (a renowned place for courting couples); then I had to go along the road towards the river Lostock which had on either side large hedges which nearly touched for want of cutting back, and then round to the back door of our house which had a very large wood or mini forest adjoining; I was always glad to get in the house.
We had some very eventful days in the choir and as I got older I got more used to it and eventually was “top lad” which was quite something as at every service which was followed by Communion one had to put the rail over to make it complete, leaving the vicar in the sanctuary. Each year we had the choir boys’ trip to Southport which meant we had to catch the train at Bamber Bridge, so we had to catch the bus to BB or walk. The fare was two old pence, but one year someone paid for us to go in the local taxi which was based across from Hills Café, which is now the Doctors’ surgery; thirteen of us crowded into the taxi. The taxi owner was a man called Billy Kellet, who lived in what was then West View Terrace, now part of Preston Road. It adjoined the Bay Horse Public House. For the boys’ choir trip we received two shillings and sixpence in the morning and the same in the afternoon. We also received one shilling for our lunch around midday. We had always to ensure we saved two pence to catch the bus home from Bamber Bridge. The first thing we did on arriving in Southport was to go on the Marina Lake for one hour, price four pence each, four in each boat. We used to enjoy the rowing. The afternoon was spent mostly on the fairground. One year I had saved up a total of seventeen shillings and six pence and my mother tried to persuade me not to take it all, but I did and spent the lot, including treating one of the other boys to rides on the fairground. Of course, when I got home I was in very bad books with my parents, especially my father who said I was mad, and my mother did not appreciate me having treated the other boy. I learned a lesson from that how easily you can be sponged on. The boy’s father was much better off than my father but he was very strict with his two children. Each year we tried to take home a little present for mother (except that year) but one year I had my little presents stuffed in my pocket; whilst leaning out of the train window my presents slipped out of my pocket, through the carriage window. I had difficulty getting mother to believe that was how I lost her present.
Continue to 03. Brother Fred & The Hill Family